


Gift Of The Gods

by sasha_b



Series: Live By The Sword [35]
Category: King Arthur (2004), Original Work
Genre: M/M, slash and language. Arthur/Lancelot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 14:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5007658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_b/pseuds/sasha_b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Candy makes the world go ‘round.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gift Of The Gods

**Author's Note:**

> This is set shortly after _Back To Bedlam_.

 

 

 

Arthur was fingering the chain of the onyx cross when the door to the loft opened. Hastily tucking the jewelry into his pocket, he called out to Lancelot.

The other man made a non-committal noise and headed into the kitchen, bypassing Arthur and the living room entirely.

Feeling a tad affronted, Arthur stood and followed Lance into the kitchen, and leaned against one of the counters, watching as the other man fussed around with some packets of things he had apparently bought at the supermarket.

“You’re ignoring me,” Arthur teased, albeit with a bit of truth in his tone. He wasn’t sure why his feelings were hurt by Lance not paying him much attention – actually, that wasn’t really true. Since Lancelot’s hospital stay, Arthur had been much more possessive, more attuned to the other man’s moods. It hurt him unreasonably when Lance was distracted. Arthur rubbed a hand over his mouth, the cross sitting heavily in his trouser pocket, his shame at his jealousy making him feel about four years old.

At last Lancelot turned around, a look of consternation on his face. “Fucking stupid grocers,” he grumped, examining a small red and black bag that he held as if it were more precious than gold. “Melted as fuck.”

“Hello? Lance? How was your day? ‘Great, Arthur, and how was yours?’” Arthur waved a hand in the air, touching his fingers and thumb together, his imitation of a talking mouth lost on Lance. He took the few steps that separated them, and tilted his head sideways, reading the package Lance held.

“Malteasers?”

At that Lancelot looked up, meeting Arthur’s eyes. “You’re kidding.”

Arthur’s brows drew together. “I’m kidding about what?”

Lance sighed, his expression the picture of disbelief, and shook the small bag at Arthur. “Only the best candy in the entire world, Arthur. You’ve never had these? What kind of childhood did you have?” He smiled, then looked at the bag again. “Of course, they’re usually not so … mushy.”

Arthur took the bag from Lancelot, and read the outside. “Oh, I’ve had these. They’re like Whoppers, right?”

Lance slapped a hand to his chest, his eyes going wide with shock. “Blasphemer! Give me that bag.” He snatched at the bag, clutching it to him like Arthur had been trying to take away his last dollar.

Laughing, Arthur rested a hand on his hip. “So, explain then. What’s the big difference?” He was glad Lance seemed light hearted – it was a nice change. He smiled at the other man, once again taken in by the big brown eyes and angular face. His free hand rose and fingered the loose collar of Lancelot’s shirt as the other man gazed blissfully at his candy. Arthur tugged at the collar, trying to get Lance’s attention.

“Lance. Open the bag. I’m really intrigued now.”

Lancelot pushed away from the counter and made for Arthur’s stairs, one hand stuck behind him, the fingers beckoning Arthur to follow.

“Come on,” he said, voice deeper suddenly. “This, you’ll want to see.”

Arthur bounded after him.

*

Sitting on Arthur’s bed, Lance was still engrossed in the package as Arthur rounded the corner to his bedroom. He turned on a lamp, and the soft glow lit the room as Arthur’s broader body joined Lancelot’s on top of the covers.

“Okay, for fuck’s sake, open the thing,” Arthur smiled as he leaned over Lance, resting his chin on the other man’s shoulder. He lay a hand on Lancelot’s hip, and snuffled lightly at Lancelot’s neck.

“No distractions,” Lance smacked Arthur’s leg, and Arthur frowned, pulling back. Clearing his throat, Lance tore open the packet of Malteasers, inhaling the chocolate smell that wafted from inside the bag. A huge grin decorated his face, and turned his normally sharp features even sharper, making him seem almost elf-like.

“Give,” Arthur said, and took the bag from him. The smell was good. Sticking a hand in, he withdrew two little malty candies and popped them into his mouth.

“Ohmygod,” he breathed, eyes closing, mouth flooding with saliva. His jaw tightened like it always did when he ate or drank anything that had a distinct taste, and his hand reached for more of the stuff.

“Uh uh,” Lancelot said, snatching the bag from him. “My turn.”

He poured a few candies into his hand, throwing them into his mouth like they were grapes or popcorn. The chocolate left a smear on his fingers, but before he could wipe his hand, Arthur had grabbed it, and was sucking on one of his fingers before Lance could even open his mouth to say stop.

“Arthur, you ass,” Lancelot griped, pulling his hand back. It made a popping sound as Arthur’s lips released it, and Arthur pouted as Lance examined his now clean hand. “I was going to do that.”

Arthur’s brows descended. “You’d rather lick your own fingers than have me do it? What’s the deal with this candy?”

“I’m telling you, nothing on this earth can compare,” the other man answered. He upended the bag, and popped five pieces into his mouth. “The best way to do it,” he said, his words garbled from the food, “is to jam a bunch in at once, then let it melt into a malt goo pile. Mmmmmmmmmshit, yeah.” His eyes closed in ecstasy.

Arthur got a few pieces for himself, and ate them more slowly this time. He shut his own eyes, and breathed in through his nose as he ate.

“Much better than Whoppers,” he agreed finally, opening his eyes and smiling at Lance. He laughed. “You got me hooked on espresso, Mexican food, and now fucking Malteasers. You’re a bad influence.”

Lancelot pursed his lips, and swallowed his last bite. Chucking the empty container over the side of the bed, he shrugged. “I am what I am,” he replied, batting his eyelashes. Raising a hand, he made to wipe the remaining chocolate off his mouth.

Arthur grabbed for his hand, tangling his fingers with Lance’s own, and shoved the other man back down on the bed. He stuck out his tongue and licked the dab of sweet off that was still on the corner of Lancelot’s mouth.

“A chocolate hog?” Arthur asked innocently, smacking his lips. Lancelot snorted and tried to get up, but Arthur shoved at him again, pinning him down by the full sleeves of his shirt.

“Where are you going, Benoit? Aren’t you normally the one who tries to get me in this position?” Arthur grinned, a slightly feral affair. He snaked out his tongue again and licked his own lips. “I like the taste of you with that malt. I think I want more.”

Lancelot rolled his eyes, but his expression betrayed his actual feelings. “Come and get it, then.”

Arthur grunted a laugh, but moved slightly so he was laying over Lance fully. He wound a hand in the other man’s springy hair and kissed him, slowly.

He pretended to think about it when he pulled away. "Not much more tangy than normal," he teased, and bumped noses with Lance when he sensed he was going to protest.

“Hush,” Lance smiled up at him. He rested his arms around Arthur’s waist, one leg rising to wrap around Arthur’s calf. “I’m always tangy. One of a kind,” he joked, then made a pained face as Arthur shifted.

“Oh, Christ, Lance, I’m sorry,” Arthur immediately rolled off the other man. He grimaced and sat up on one elbow, lifting up the corner of Lancelot’s shirt to examine the other man’s new scar.

“It’s fine, Arthur, honestly,” Lance answered, and pulled his shirt back down. “It’s been – what, a month? You’re not hurting me.”

“Then why did you make that face?” Arthur asked, contrite. “I’m sorry,” he sighed. Lance just shook his head, and moved so their positions were reversed, with him laying atop Arthur.

“Will you kiss me again if I swear this is more comfortable?” he said, his words short, his expression only slightly annoyed. “Leave it to you to find a way to stop.”

Arthur stared up at Lancelot, his eyes moving over each bit of the other man’s face and neck, ignoring the tirade that came out of Lancelot’s mouth.

Wild, dark hair, black, black eyes framed by the arched brows, prominent nose, neatly trimmed goatee, and lastly, his full, red lips.

Arthur’s tongue protruded unconsciously from his mouth, just the tip sticking out as he watched Lance.

“What?” Lance asked, the single word more tetchy sounding than any swear he usually peppered through his sentences.  His body was soft and pliable against Arthur’s, though.  That he couldn't help.  “What are you staring at?”

“My future,” Arthur answered softly. “My past.”

Lance rolled his eyes, but Arthur noticed the blush and felt the minute tremble. “Kiss me, and shut up,” the other man retorted.

Arthur wrapped his arms around Lance’s middle and allowed his legs to part, Lance settling into the crook made by Arthur’s hips comfortably. The other man threaded his fingers in Arthur’s hair and kissed his jaw first, then brushed his still chocolate tasting lips over Arthur’s.

Arthur breathed gently against Lancelot’s mouth, then licked at it again. He waited until Lance’s eyes closed, and then pressed his lips against the other man’s.  
  
Slow, chaste. Then, he softly forced Lancelot’s mouth to open, and slid his tongue inside, the malt and sweetness from the chocolate lingering.  Arthur sighed happily and tightened his grip on Lancelot’s waist, his lips opening further, his head slanting so he could kiss Lance more deeply.

Pulling back, Arthur sucked on Lancelot’s upper lip with his own, biting it slightly, then repeated it with the lower one. When he felt the other man go boneless against him, he pressed his advantage, and resumed his deeper kiss, not allowing Lance the chance to rest or to get away from him.

He finally had to stop to breathe. Lancelot was panting slowly, his face glazed and his body now firm against Arthur’s hips. “Arthur – Jesus,” he murmured. “Where’d you learn that? On second thought, don’t tell me.” His eyes glittered with the fire Arthur felt moving through his own body. “Just promise you won’t kiss anyone else like that.”

His fingers tightened in Arthur’s hair, and Arthur had to suppress a laugh at Lancelot licking his lips, as if he was savoring the feel. “Don’t worry, Lance,” he replied, voice husky, “not for all the Malteasers in America.”

Lancelot laughed, a deep, throaty sound that made Arthur squeeze him around the middle and bury his face in Lancelot’s neck. He nipped lightly at the stubbly skin, and soothed the spot with soft lips.

“What about in all the world?”

Arthur pulled back and cocked an eyebrow. “That – I’d have to think about.” He turned to divest himself of his shirt, and the cross that had been in his pants pocket slid out and landed on the floor.

He looked at it, then back up at Lance, who was blissfully unaware of the jewelry. “Kiss,” the younger man begged. “Do it again.”

Arthur ignored the cross and did as he was bidden.


End file.
